The Roosters Crow at the Break of Dawn – The Witnesses Were Having the Jury On – They’ll Be Rich in Just 60 Minutes on Sunday Night – Don’t Think Twice About Truth Babe It’s All Right – How the McCulkin Murder Witnesses Were Paid Plenty to Sing – And How the Cops Let it Happen and Didn’t Say a Single Word

 

Who made who, who made you?
Who made who, ain’t nobody told you?
Who made who, who made you?
If you made them and they made you
Who picked up the bill, and who made who?
Ain’t nobody told you?

Did you watch the Sixty Minutes episode about the McCulkin murders last night?

If you didn’t, you can catch it on replay here.

Once you’ve watched it, perhaps you might ask yourself one simple question:

Given that the trial only ended on Friday, how the hell were the 60 Minutes crew able to put such an in depth and polished piece, replete with interviews with two of the prime witnesses – both in protective police custody in the witness protection program – together in just 48 hours?

It’s a damn good question, because they didn’t.

These interviews were shot during the trial.

The witnesses Warren McDonald (O’Dempsey) and Peter Hall (Dubois) – both of them serious criminals – did not appear on camera because they are nice blokes, reformed characters who wanted to atone for the sin of the claimed silences and set the record straight by telling the public what they say they have known for decades.

They did it because they got paid.

Paid lots and lots. Heaps even,

As much as the reward money that they so earnestly swore to the juries in the respective trials of Dubois and O’Dempsey that they had no intention of claiming.

‘But how could they have signed contracts to be paid to tell their tales when they were in the witness protection program Archie?’ I hear you ask. ‘How could the 60 Minutes team have tracked them down when they were being hidden away by police due to the threats that the name suppressed jailbird singer – a falsetto with multiple convictions for fraud – claimed that O’Dempsey had made against their lives?’

How indeed?

There can be but one answer can there not?

The police told the 60 minutes mob where to find the pair of mugs they were minding, and took the television people right to their safe house door.

The same police who sat silent throughout the trial watching these witnesses gain credibility with the juries by looking the 12 good and honest men and women in the eye and telling them they weren’t here spilling their guts for the reward money, when all the while the cold case team knew that the gut-spillers were getting a big cash kicker from Channel Nine.

Knew because they’d arranged it.

Something is very, very wrong with the way this whole thing has rolled, and if I were in charge of the legal defence teams for either convicted man I know what I would be doing this afternoon: I’d be running down to the Supreme Court of Appeal and making an urgent application for a mistrial, that’s what I’d be doing.

But then I’m just a mug from Geebung.

What the hell would I know?

A Fairytale in BrisVegas – The McCulkin Murder Box Set – Series One

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True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 1

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 2 – Houston, We Have a Problem

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 3 – Falling Down the Rabbit Hole Where the Clocks Go Crazy and the Lawyers Turn Mute

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 4 – More Holes Than a Krakatoa Crater and More Miles Than the Leyland Brothers

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 5 – The Five Simple Words of a 13 Year Old Girl That Started an Avalanche – ‘Vince and Shorty Were Here’ – But Were They? – And When?

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 6 – Billy Heads Over to Archie’s Hood – And the Plot Thickens Like Beaten Cream

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 7 – Billy Drives Down Lutwyche Road – And Archie Takes a Wander Down Memory Lane

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 8 – There’s a Rat in the Kedron Kitchen, But What Can the Poor Widow Do?

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 9 – And Like a Dark Night Ended When the Bright Sun Dawns, All of a Sudden it Becomes Crystal Clear – Dubois and O’Dempsey Didn’t Do It – The Wrong Men Are Being Held in Queensland’s Jails

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 10 – Red Hot – Rocket Ronny Redmond Hot – How the Future Police Commissioner Allowed Billy McCulkin to Lie Through His Teeth – But Why? – Take a Wild Guess

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 11– Listen – Do You Want to Know a Secret? – Let Me Whisper in Your Ear – The Queensland Police and Billy McCulkin Colluded and Lied to Hide the Truth About What Happened to His Family – Dubois and O’Dempsey are Innocent

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 12– Billy and the Copper Who Later Became Commissioner Both Slip Up – And Deliver the Greatest Load of Cow Sh*t Since the Running of the Bulls in Pampalona

True Crime Exclusive – Barbara McCulkin’s Husband Billy’s First Statement to Police – A Fairytale in BrisVegas – Part 13– Billy McCulkin’s Statement Ends With a Shotgun Blast – And Garry Dubois and Vince O’Dempsey’s Nightmare Begins – This is Not the Beginning of the End – But the End of the Beginning

McCulkin Murder Trial Date Set – And the Doubts Begin to Set In – FIRST PUBLISHED MONDAY 11 APRIL 2016

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The Sunday Mail has this morning reported that the trial date for the 2 men accused of the murder of the the McCulkin three has been set for November.

Of course I already knew that but loose lips sink battleships so I kept shtum, but now the cat’s been let out of the bag by the Sunday Mail journalist who wrote the article calling me a killer for the simple sin of telling parents about their kids schoolteacher’s sexual crimes, and thus costing the paper plenty by way of a defamation settlement and the humiliation of a printed and published apology.

So I’ll take it a step further just to show off and tell you the the trial begins on Monday the 7th of November at 10am in the Queensland Supreme Court, and that as well the murder raps the defendants are also facing charges of rape and deprivation of liberty, which is a joke that would almost be funny if only the whole thing weren’t so serious all round.

Now, I have gone way out on a limb and declared my hand early as the only Brisbane journalist who believes that the 2 accused men – Vincent O’Dempsey and Garry Dubois – are innocent of these crimes based on the evidence that will be presented against them, and I will continue to do so over the coming months and further expand on why I am correct, but to set the scene here it is in a nutshell

  • The historical evidence is crook, and has been altered, omitted or manipulated to fit the scenario that the investigating police in the 70’s wanted the world to believe.

The reason for that is simple – certain police of the day were involved directly in the commission and/or execution of the McCulkin’s disappearance, which was directly connected to the arson of 2 Fortitude Valley nightclubs, Torinos and the Whiskey Au Go Go, the latter of which went horribly wrong and left 15 innocent people dead and 2 career criminals who didn’t commit this particular crime convicted of it nevertheless, due to fabricated evidence tendered to the court by the aforementioned police officers and/or their friends.

  • The contemporary evidence is crook, and has been elicited or induced (take your pick) from witnesses by police through a combination of threat and promise.

The threat being police charging the witness for involvement in other offences, the evidence based on information obtained under duress in the draconian star chamber of the Crime and Corruption Commission under the 2001 Act of the same name; the promise being a whole or part share in a $250 000 reward offered for information leading to a conviction in relation to the McCulkin’s disappearance.

  • The prime witnesses are crook, and are crooks, and the evidence that have given has been proffered in return for indemnity against prosecution for offences that have nothing at all to do directly with the crimes that they are pointing the bone and accusing the defendants of committing.

The star witness is a bloke named Peter Hall, a broken down old career criminal who has served stretches both in Australia and abroad for an array of offences involving drugs, robbery and violence, and is suspected of small scale involvement with Terry Clark’s 1970’s Mr Asia crime syndicate after meeting a number of Clark’s associates in New Zealand’s Mt Eden Prison after doing a stretch there in 1973 for conspiracy to commit a heist on a jewellery store.

Hall’s longest stretch was for shooting at a bloke several times while the chap was sitting defenceless and unarmed in a car, and it just sheer dumb luck for Hall that he is a hopeless c*nt and missed his target’s vital organs despite being only three foot away when he pulled the trigger, for had he been a better shot he’d still be in the can today serving out his life sentence rather than having simply copped a tenner as his lag, reduced by good behavior remissions and a low bottom, that has rendered him a free man if not a good one, and allowed him liberty to assume the traditional un-Australian role of sh*thouse rat made famous by Aaron Sherritt back in the north of Victoria in the 19th century.

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The other prime witness is a junkie, another life-long f*ck up from a family of villains – her sister is Queensland’s best known shoplifter and bag-snatcher, a sl*t who pushes old ladies violently to the ground so that she call steal the sixty cents in Grandma’s purse – who also has a criminal record as long as your arm and who, like Hall has received indemnity for prosecution for unrelated offences in return for her testimony about what she claims she was told at a time shortly after she had ingested 10 valium and had whacked a decent-sized shot of the Harry Horse up her arm.

What a top-shelf pair of prosecution witnesses these pair are. Charles Manson and Martin Bryant must have been unavailable on the trial day, otherwise I’m sure that the investigating officers would have thrown them in too.

  • There are no bodies, and no physical evidence whatsoever of murder, rape, deprivation of liberty or anything else at all, other than the break and enter of the McCulkin’s Highgate Hill home by Barbara’s violent estranged husband Billy, whose uninvited entry to the home – combined with a distinct lack of police interest in investigating the women’s disappearance – destroyed the crime scene evidence for all time.

Sure, plenty of murderers have been convicted without a body being found, although they are never easy prosecutions, particularly when there is not obvious or apparent motive for the crime. Which is the simple reason that the defendants have also been charged with the rape of the McCulkins, although until recently the only person who has ever claimed at the woman and her kids were raped was Billy McCulkin himself, and that claim was simply conjecture on his behalf that he had a lifetime in jail’s reason to make.

That Billy McCulkin himself was never considered a prime suspect in his family’s disappearance is one of the most curious elements of the whole mystery, for those who can’t figure out the reason at least, and it is well worth reading my series of true crime exclusive articles analysing Billy’s police statements to understand why.

If they were to have any hope at all of making the murder charges stick however the police needed to come up with some form of motive that they could present to the jury, and for some reason were loathe to follow the obvious path of Barbara being ‘disappeared’ because she was about to blow the lid on the 1970’s police involvement in Whiskey fire and murders, and that the kids were simply collateral damage.

Of course I say ‘for some reason’ with tongue firmly in cheek, because the police have a thousand and one reasons not to tread the path most followed, for to do so expose the terrible crimes of their forebears and the false imprisonment of James Finch and John Stuart for the Whiskey crimes, thus exploding long held secrets and exposing the State to lawsuits and damage claims worth squillions.

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The torched shell of the Whiskey Au Go Go, where in 1973 fifteen innocents died

Hence the rape scenario, with the deprivation of liberty charges thrown in as a double blind for the jury’s benefit, to swirl and muddy the waters.

‘It was a sex crime Ladies and Gentlemen! Perpetrated by a pair of pedophiles!’ you can hear the prosecution proclaiming, and in your mind’s eye see the jury members visibly blanch. And what’s the bet they try to introduce a 52 year old rape conviction – a very questionable one too, the verdict made by the jury on shaky grounds; trust me, I’ve read the transcripts of both the trial and the appeal – against Dubois for an offence committed when he was a 17 year old kid living in the Housing Commission on the wrong side of Downfall Creek?

It’s a certainty the prosecution will try, as it will give their tissue paper thin case some veneer of credibility, but here’s the big question – have you ever seen a rape conviction made when there is absolutely no evidence of a rape other than the hearsay evidence of an indemnified, reward-driven, career-criminal witness who was 400km away from what he claims was the crime scene at the time that he claims the crime occurred?

Simple answer?

Never.

  • The dubious credibility of the evidence that puts the alleged offenders at the scene of the disappearance of the McCulkin Three.

Placing the offenders firmly at the scene of the McCulkin’s disappearance is absolutely crucial to the prosecution’s prospects of success, because there are three essential elements that usually have to be satisfied before a person can be convicted of the murder of another – means, motive and opportunity – and to prove the latter the prosecutors must be able to demonstrate to the satisfaction of the jury that Dubois and O’Dempsey were somewhere nearby at the time that Barbara and her girls vanished off the face of this earth.

If you believe everything that you read you will accept without question the story that there is clear evidence that the defendants were at the McCulkin home on the evening of 16 January 1974, the night that the woman and her kids disappeared.

But let me tell you unequivocally that the oft-reported tale is pure urban myth, and that there is in fact very little credible evidence whatsoever that either of the 2 men were there on the night in question. In fact the only evidence at all of O’Dempsey or Dubois’ presence at the property is that of two children named Janet and Juneen Gayton, aged thirteen and ten respectively.

Now what has not been reported, and what you will not know unless you have read the girls statements -and the transcripts of evidence from the 1980 Coroner’s investigation of the the disappearance of the McCulkin’s and others, but we’ll look at them later, for now we’ll just concentrate on the evidence in the Gayton’s statements made in 1974 – is that neither child was ever able to identify Dubois by name at all, and could only identify O’Dempsey by his first name, and that identification was hearsay based simply on what their friend had told them.

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You see what happened on the 16th of January 1974 is that the young Gayton girls walked across the road from their house on the other side of Dorchester Street and called out to the 2 McCulkin kids to come over to their house because it was Juneen’s birthday and they were having cake.

It’s long been reported as a birthday party but it wasn’t – there were no other children present – just the kids from across the road, the McCulkins.

The Gayton children never actually entered their friends house – they simply stood out the front next to the gate – from where Janet whistled,  and then Leanne and Vicki came out. The Gayton girls were only there at the property for less than a minute.

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The McCulkin’s home at 6 Dorchester St, Highgate Hill

The pair of children gave varying accounts of what happened during that brief minute.

Janet, the older girl, says that she saw a man in the front yard holding a box of beer and talking to a cat, and saw another man in the kitchen talking to Mrs McCulkin. She knew that man by the name of Vince, because he’d been at the house before, but didn’t know his last name.

She says that as they walked across the road Vicki McCulkin made the comment that Vince and Shorty were here. Janet asked what Shorty’s real name was, and Vicki told her a name, but she couldn’t remember it. Vicki also told her that the men were friends of her Dad.

The younger girl, Juneen, says that as she was standing in her yard across the road she saw two men walking through the McCulkin’s gate. When she came across the road with her sister one of the men was standing near the front fence, holding a box of beer and talking to a cat named Ginger Meggs. She didn’t talk to the man, and she couldn’t see into the house, so didn’t see the other man while she was there.

juneen

Juneen Gayton, now in her 50’s, but once a little 10-year-old who like most kids would paid attention to Ginger Meggs the cat, but couldn’t remember the men at her friends house

Juneen Gayton also says that Vicki made the statement that Vince and Shorty were there, and that Janet asked Vicki what Shorty’s real name was, but in her version Vicki simply replied that he was a friend of her Dad’s.

Neither of the girls knew if there was anyone else in the house – Billy McCulkin, for instance – for the simple reason that they didn’t go inside.

The Gayton girls made these statements four months after the disappearance of the McCulkins – a story goes with the delay, we’ll tell you about it later – and by this time O’Dempsey’s face in particular had been plastered all over the Brisbane newspapers after the police released it to media and declared him the prime suspect in the suspected crime.

janet

Janet Gayton, the little girl who last saw the McCulkin girls, as she looked 36 years later

A police officer showed Janet a photo of O’Demspey, and she told the officer that was the man Vince she saw at the house. Hold the phone on this issue though, because when I tell you in a later story about what happened at the Coroner’s hearing you will realise that there are huge doubts over the veracity of this identification.

Janet was unable to identify the man ‘Shorty’ other than to say to say he had sandy-colored hair worn about shoulder length and some type of mustache.

Juneen was unable to identify either man at all.

And that’s it as far as witness identification of O’Dempsey and Dubois at the alleged scene of the crime goes, although it is of course not the actual alleged scene of the crime, because the prosecution claim is that the offences occurred at an unknown location in the Warwick region in Queensland’s Darling Downs, about 300km away, and there are no witnesses whatsoever to that alleged event.

It’s pretty bloody weak isn’t it? Particularly in regard to Dubois. In fact I would go so far as to say that there is absolutely no credible first hand evidence that Garry Dubois was there at all on the night, and for reasons to be explained the evidence about O’Dempsey’s presence is shaky at the very best.

  • The missing piece of vital evidence.

But – and this a huge BUT – it is not what is contained in the Gayton girl’s statements that is what’s crucial to the question of identification.

It’s what is not there.

Witness statements from Mr and Mrs Gayton.

The police never interviewed them.

They never sought a statement from the only adults in the whole wide world who could place the McCulkin sisters at the Gayton home on the evening of 16 January 1974, and could verify the pivotal times that they arrived and left the house.

They never asked the girls parents if they had seen either O’Dempsey or Dubois at their neighbor’s house.

They never asked Mr or Mrs Gayton whether they had noticed O’Dempsey’s highly distinctive Valiant Charger parked across the road opposite from their house. EVERY witness interviewed remembers O’Dempsey’s flash car, it was a real talking point, and men in particular could surely not have missed noting it if it was there. But the police never asked.

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????????????????????????????????????

Why not?

Surely this information would have been crucial to the case, particularly given that one of the critical pieces of evidence is that Leanne Gayton fell ill, and left the Gayon’s house early.

We can’t ask Graham Gayton, the girl’s father, because he died in 2001, and is presently resting at peace in the Wynnum Cemetery, but we can ask Mrs Gayton who is alive and well and looking good, and living only a few kilometers away from her old home across the road from the scene of those awful events of four long decades ago.

I could, and will, write a whole lot more about the tangled web that so many have woven that in my view renders the MCulkin mystery damn near unsolvable.

But it’s 6.30pm, and my wife’s birthday cake is waiting on the table.

In this mad world of filth and sh*t and greed and ambition and corruption and lies, I just hope I live to wake and excrete it in the morning.

The poor little McCulkin girls never got the chance.

Forget the Dead Sea Scrolls – Now the Dreaded 21st Century Tolls – 10 Thousand Years After Moses Took an Acid Trip and Ascended Mt Cootha to Take a Captain Cook at the View North to Geebung the Barabbas of the Bung Uncovers the 11th Commandment Buried in the Sand Under Downfall Creek – ‘Though Shall Resist the Temptations of the Modern World and Pretend thy Internet Does Not Exist’- A COMMENTARY ON THE ANCIENT LAWS OF SUB JUDICE INTENDED TO BE PUBLISHED FRIDAY BUT WITHHELD DUE TO THE ANCIENT LAWS OF SUB JUDICE

 

I love the bloody bible, I really do.

Puh-lease Mum! I know it’s Friday but I’m not talking about the form guide. I’m talking about the real deal, the good book, the one that God wrote.

What’s that? God didn’t write it?  Who did then?

You don’t bloody know?

What are ya luv, some sort of post-Luddite living a life of seclusion walking around in your nightgown in the daytime and wearing rollers or something?

Haven’t ya ever hear of Google you old chook?

It’s all the go these days darlin’, and has been for the better part of the last two decades; in fact it’s been around since the turn of the 21st century, and you don’t even have to subscribe to Archie Butterfly’s alleged blog under an assumed name to use it, although the beaks and wigs reckon itsnotnormalisit’s a hell of a lot more interesting than the world’s biggest search engine even if it does only have about a 100 millionth of a million million of the number of readers.

But geez Louise!

I thought the only people in the year 2017 and who didn’t use the internet were jurors, and that’s only because by law they’re not allowed to and can to jail if they dare put their digits on the keyboard, although personally I’m buggered if I know why because most punters would have thought that facts were facts, and that if a witness said something in a trial that’s stuck in one of 12 angry Bruce or Brenda’s minds to the point that they seek guidance on the said thing  – even though the boss has told them ‘Hey you didn’t hear that!’ – then they might be entitled to know the truth about the thing that they supposedly didn’t hear.

Does that garbled sentence make any sense Mum? Oh, about as much as not hearing something you’ve heard and asking about it and then being reminded that you didn’t hear it and being expected to disregard it even though you’ve already shown that you heard it and didn’t disregard it by asking the question in the first place.

Sorry my sweet old girl, I didn’t catch that?

It’s all Greek to you?

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Well no luv, I’m very sorry but I will not call Gorgeous George and ask him to translate it for you, and no it’s not just because I know full well you have a thing for him and think he’s cute.

Alright, yes he is I suppose but I’m not changing my mind, because George speaks modern wog Mum, not the ancient Koine kind.

Only bench warmers, civil libertarians and St Matthew speak that old lingo these days.

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Are you serious Mum?

You don’t know who St Matthew is? Or that the Iliad loving illywhacker wrote his recollections of the great man’s sermons in Spiro Supremadopolous’s ancient Coptic script?

Jesus Christ almighty!

Next you’ll be telling me that you can’t see Herbet Badgery standing there in front of you and staring you right in the face.

For the love of pizza female parent, it’s not as if you’re one of the baying crowd that Pilate’s anointed and appointed to decide whether it’s Barabbas or the merry rambling Aramaic minstrel who cops the breeze on Calvary.

So don’t ask me to answer your damn questions, I’m too busy reading about Peter and denial and cocks that crow thrice to be arsed explaining it. And don’t bother looking at my website, because the answer’s not there either.

Get with the times Grandma – just bloody Google it!

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Pretty Boy Collins and the Runaway Girl Pash in the Park – You Little Town Flirts!

No way Dave!

Was that Pretty Boy Collins that I just saw dropping off your ex-missus Del in the QUT lay-by and giving her a huge tongue-laden smooch goodbye?

Surely not.

Deputy Premier Jackie Trad’s Chief of Staff would never in a million years be the type of back door bovver boy who would cut his Old Guard mates lunch would he?

Of course he would.

Archie has a memory like an elephant, and never forgets a face, particularly one that screamed abuse at he and the Branch Stacker when once upon a time at an ALP State Conference they offered a polite and considered joint opinion that killing unborn kids wasn’t cool, and thus proved the eternal truth of the old adage that here is more that unites us than divides us.

Well, well, well, well, well.

Pretty Boy Matt Collins you dirty dog.

You little town flirts.

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The Crook, the Thief, His Strife and Their Bother – Cinderella Discovers Her Missing Slipper and Hollers ‘Home James! And Don’t Spare the Horses’ – Is Anyone Other Than the Mainstream Media Really Surprised That Ashby and Hanson Might be Partners in Crime?

The mainstream media is a curious c*nt of a beast isn’t it?

A few months every rag in the land was talking up the electoral prospects of Pauline Hanson’s One White Nation party and positing it as potential government breaker, even though every journo with a brain knew that the disparate mob that Malcolm Turnbull’s desperate and idiotic double dissolution had breathed new life into was polling less than two percent.

Never let the truth get in the way of a good story a bloke named Samuel who called himself Mark once said, and goodness gracious me wasn’t old Mr Clemens spot on the money when he declared that a fraction too much fiction is never quite enough?

Pauline Hanson interested in dollars per vote?

Never!

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James Ashby equally as interested in an earn as his new found political soul mate and latter day boss?

No way!

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They are sprung on tape plotting a scam, and it’s a front page story?

Really?

What was it that Kevin the Great the first once said?

If you build it they will come.

Home James!

And don’t spare the horses.

No Cop Commander Could See It – Tony Abbott Just Wanted to Cover It Up – But Archie Watched the Horror Unfold Live – And Here’s What He Wrote on 19 December 2014 – There’s No Terrorist – Just a Fucking Murderous Nutter – Shoot the Bastard in the Bloody Head

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The grub gunman Monis and his mad missus – string ’em up from the nearest tree

The gunman has been identified and he’s not a terrorist, he’s a fucking lunatic – a bloke who writes disgusting and disgraceful letters to the bereaved families of diggers and an alleged party to murder to boot.

Mans Monis – an asshole who calls himself a Sheik but is nothing of the sort – sent letters and DVD’s to a number of families of Australian soldiers killed in Afghanistan, accusing them of being child murderers, comparing them to Nazi’s and saying they were going to hell. All the while he was ably assisted by his girlfriend Amirzh Droudis, a piece of shit who is currently on bail for murdering Monis’ ex-wife, who was stabbed at least 18 times, doused with petrol, and set aflame.

Monis, who tried to create a bizarre alibi for his ex-wife’s murder by filming himself with a clock and faking a car accident outside a police station at the time of his ex-wife’s death, copped a mere 300 hours of community service for his vile letters about the dead servicemen.

He was charged with being an accessory both before and after fact in the ex’s murder – which means that the Crown reckon he was in on it from the get go – but for some God unknown reason Magistrate Daryl Pearce – supposedly known as ‘Fierce Pearce’ for the rigour of his sentencing – gave Monis and his new missus bail on the murder charge in December last year. I hope he’s having a restless night’s sleep right now.

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Monis poor dead wife – shoot this gutless bastard now

Last Friday the High Court quite rightly threw out his attempt to have his convictions overturned, and now it appears that in shades of Colin Winchester the psycho is taking his madness out upon the world. But without his girlfriend there does the dickhead have the guts to do anything but act the fool? We all hope not.

But let’s not leave it chance – shoot the prick now. Because if the police don’t we’re about to see the re-emergence of the lynch mob. And I reckon the queue will stretch from Sydney to Darwin.

How Your Government Lies to You – And Why Tony Abbott Was and is Simply a C*nt – First Published 24 February 2015 – Martin Place – The Whitewash – If This is As Good As It Gets – God Only Knows What Happens Next

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I’ve just read the joint report commissioned by Abbott and the NSW Government into the Martin Place siege. This is the Liberal-sponsored ‘let’s get ahead of the Coroner’s findings’ report that was intended to be a forward advance white-wash of the whole disaster.

In fact though, it’s anything but, and despite the best attempts of the authors, it makes it clear that our National Security is simply a joke, and that the sequence of events that lead to 2 Australian’s dying simply because they chose the wrong joint to order their flat white was a f**k-up from woe to go.

We learn nothing about how the hostages died, because after consultation with the NSW Coroner, it was agreed that it would not be appropriate at this time for ithis report to address the issue.

But the fact that they even bothered probably tells you all that you need to know. The police killed at least 1 of the hostages and injured a large number of others.

The guts of it all is that Monis lied to enter the country – claiming he was a target of the Ayatollah Khomeini, when in reality he was just a garden variety thief who had fraudulently obtained $200 000 then taken the bolt – and Australian authorities believed him, without making even the most cursory of checks.

Within a few days he was on ASIO’s radar, but despite a number of adverse security assessments over the next couple of years he was dismissed as a shell-shocked victim – despite the fact that he had never seen war – and was granted a Protection Visa.

WIithin a couple of months Monis stages a hunger strike outside Federal Parliament, makes inflammatory comments on ethnic radio, then stages another protest in front of the NSW Parliament House.

INTERPOL Australia open a file on him and request information about his background from Iran; but because no extradition treaty exists between us and them, no info is received and Monis’ file is closed.

The day after the 9/11 tragedy, Monis phones ASIO with information that Iran is behind the attacks. It is of course total BS, and after a number of interviews ASIO mark his file with words to the effect of “Kook, Loon, Alfoil Hatter and Nut Job”, and forever thereafter information about Monis’ nefarious activities is disregarded.

Between 2002 and 2003 he pretends he is a spiritual healer, and commits perverted sexual assaults on vulnerable women, 40 charges are later laid against him. He is on bail for them at the time he enters the Lindt Cafe for the last time.

In 2004, Monis is granted Citizenship and becomes an Aussie. On paper, at least.

Over the next three years he makes numerous calls to ASIO offering ‘information’. They review his file and reconfirm his official status as a nut-case. His file is re-marked ‘Ignore This Imbecile and Anything He Says, or Anyone Has to Say About Him’.

He and some other f**kwit then register an organisation he calls ‘Hizbullah Australia’, and in 2008 he sends letters from the organisation to the Attorney-General, Prime Minister, Opposition Leader, Foreign Minister and ASIO, stating that the group is now registered in Australia and hopes to begin activity as an Islamic organisation.

ASIO look at their files, and again dismiss him as a nutter.

Monis then sends vile letters to the widows and children of Diggers murdered in Afghanistan, telling them that their Anzac hero loved ones were pigs, and deserved what they got.

A year later – a f**king year! It should have been 30 seconds – he is arrested and charged with postal offences with regard to the letters (he should have been charged with treason).

Four years later – yes 4 f**king years – in 2013 – he is convicted of the offences of telling young kids that their hero Dad’s were swine and deserved to be slaughtered. He cops 300 hours community service and a good behaviour bond. He should have been hung.

In the time between committing his vile deeds and being sentenced for his crimes, Monis is charged with intimidating his former partner, and a DVO is taken out against him. He contests and beats the charge and has the DVO lifted.

His former partner is then brutally murdered at her home. Monis’ girlfriend is charged with her murder. He is charged as an accessory. He spends a month in custody on remand, then for reasons inexplicable he is given bail.

In April 2014 the germ is again arrested, this time for the 40 for sexual offences committed a decade before. He spends another month in jail, and then unbelievably is once again granted bail.

8 weeks before the Martin Place siege Monis is charged with another 37 sexual offences. His previously granted  bail is continued. Two people are soon to pay a heavy price for this gross failure of the judicial system.

In the week prior to the Martin Place siege 18 calls are made to the National Security Hotline expressing concerns about threats Monis is publicly making on his Facebook page. Because his file has been marked ‘Nutter’ the complaints are ignored.

On Friday 12 December 2014 Monis appears in the High Court, seeking to have his convictions in regard to the postal offences overturned. The High Court tells him that he’s a c**t and that he can get f**ked. They toss his appeal in the trash.

3 days later he tells Australia that we’re the c**ts and that is us who can get get f**ked. After another 17 hour failure by the authorities, Monis and 2 innocent cappucnio drinkers are dead. Many more are suffering trauma and injuries that will remain with them for the rest of their lives.

They are thankful that they still have lives, but increasingly angry at how this situation was allowed to occur.

After reading this report, we should all be.